“It’s like water torture,” I ploughed on. “One page, two pages, three...”
“When I said that you weren’t ready, I meant me — I’m not ready to let go, not just yet.”
“And after all these generations, why me?”
He offered a tired shrug. “I’m the last of my line. Maybe that’s reason enough. How about you?”
“Me?”
“Brothers...? Sisters...?”
“An only child.”
“We have that in common, too, then.” He yawned and stretched. “Forgive me, I think I need some sleep.”
“I could stay here and read.”
He shook his head again. “Perhaps tomorrow.” He rose to his feet and gestured for me to do the same. As he accompanied me down the hall, helping me into my jacket, I felt the negative mirror image of his fatigue. I was crackling with energy, a need to be in movement, a need for activity and exertion.
“I saw your friend,” I told him. “She was passing the shop.”
“Oh?”
“Alice, with the blond hair.”
“Alice,” he echoed.
“I just thought I’d say.”
“Thank you.” He pulled open the door and I skipped out, almost dancing down the stone stairs. She was waiting, of course — at the same spot across the street, wearing her floral dress and looking cold. I slipped off my jacket and placed it around her, then led her by the hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“The river. I feel like walking.”
There were no tourist boats at this hour, just a few silent lovers and noisy drunks.
“Do you live with him?” I asked her.
“No.”
“So where do you live?”
“Not far.”
“Can we go there?”
“No.” She sounded almost aghast at the idea.
“My room back at the shop then,” I offered.
“Why would I go anywhere with you?”
“Because you kissed me.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’m glad you did though.” I came to a halt, facing her. “I’d like it to happen again.”
She took a few moments to make her mind up, then stroked my face again, this time with both hands, as though checking that I really was flesh and blood. I leaned in and our lips met, mouths opening. But partway through, she started to laugh, easing away from me. I tried for a disappointed look, and she had the good grace to look slightly ashamed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just...”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head, but then perked up and grabbed my hand, leading me along the riverfront towards the nearest brightly-lit bridge. “We can cross to the other side.”
“Why would we do that?”
“It’s quieter there. Do you have any dope?”
“Just this.” I showed her the remains of the cannabis. “I don’t have any cigarettes or papers though.”
“That doesn’t matter.” She peeled away the cellophane and nibbled at a corner. “You can just eat it. It’s almost nice.”
“Almost?” I smiled and bit into the gritty cube. “Will it have the same effect?”
“We’ll know the answer soon enough. Did Harry sell you this?”
“You know him?”
“If you’ve not paid, offer him half of whatever he asks.”
“What if he doesn’t like that?”
She looked me up and down. “You’re bigger than him.”
“He has friends though.”
“So pull a knife.” She mimed the action of drawing a blade from its sheath and lunging with it. “Straight into his gut and his friends will run for the hills.” She saw the look on my face and burst out laughing, hiding her mouth behind the palm of her hand. I grabbed both her arms and pulled her towards me, waiting until she was ready for our next kiss.
“Keep your eyes open this time,” I said in a whisper. “I want to see whatever’s in them...”
For the next week, whenever I walked out of Shakespeare and Company, she was waiting. In deference to the dress she always wore, I’d stopped changing my own clothes, even though Mike had complained, wrinkling his nose as he made show of sniffing my shoulder.
“Mate, when was the last time you saw the inside of a shower?”
But Alice didn’t seem to mind. We would buy a plastic bottle of the cheapest wine and head for the river or the Louvre or the Arc de Triomphe, laughing at the tourists as they posed for their little photos. On one occasion, we indulged in a five-liter cubitainer of red, sharing it with the tramps who congregated near one of the bridges, until a fight broke out and the arrival of the gendarmes sent us scurrying. I had stopped shaving, and Alice would run her hands down my cheeks and across my chin, calling me her “bit of rough.” There was a folded letter in my pocket from my father. I hadn’t opened it, and hadn’t troubled to call Charlotte. Theirs was another world entirely. I could feel myself changing, growing. When Harry grabbed me one night outside the restaurant to remind me of the money I owed, I laid him out with a single punch, after which I had to keep my distance from the restaurant. Not that this mattered — Alice never ate a thing, and that seemed to suit both of us. With money from the bookshop till, I bought us a few grams of cocaine from an African dealer, which killed any appetite remaining. And when Mike nagged me for missing a shift which he had been obliged to cover, I gave as good as I got, until he backed away, hands held in front of him, fear in his eyes at my clenched fists and gritted teeth.
Oh, yes, I was changing.
I’d been back to Benjamin Turk’s apartment, but its door remained locked and unanswered. Alice had advised a shoulder-charge, which had left me with nothing other than a large bruise and a slight deflation of ego.
“I could scale the front wall, window to window,” I’d muttered over more pavement wine, receiving an indulgent smile and a hug.
“He’s often gone for a few days,” she’d sympathized. “He’ll be back soon enough.”
And then she’d kissed me.
There hadn’t been any sex as yet, which suited both of us. We were happy to wait for the right moment, the most intense moment. Hugs and kisses, the holding of hands, fingers stroking an arm, cheek or the nape of the neck. She seemed to have no other friends, or none she wouldn’t give up in order to spend time with me, and I felt the same. I wasn’t about to share what we had with Mike or anyone else. Every moment I could, I spent with her.
Until the day I walked downstairs into the shop groggy with sleep and saw Charlotte standing there. She carried a rucksack and a wide-brimmed straw hat and looked hot from walking. Her smile was hesitant.
“Hello, you,” she said. “We were getting worried.”
“Oh?”
“I phone but you’re never here. And your mum and dad...” She broke off. “Well, do I get a hug?”
I stepped forward and took her by the shoulders, my lips brushing against her damp red hair.
“Bloody hell, Ronnie, look at the state of you. When did you last eat?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re really not. Your friend Mike...”
“Mike?”
“He answered the phone yesterday.”
“And told you to come running? Probably just wanted to size you up as another notch on his bed-post.”
“He was right though; you look ill. Have you seen a doctor?”
“I don’t need a doctor. What I need is for everyone to stop bothering me.”
She was silent for a moment, glaring at me. Then she turned her eyes away. “A lovely warm welcome for your girlfriend,” she muttered, pretending to study one of the shelves.
I ran a hand through my matted hair. “Look, I had a bit to drink last night. And the shock of seeing you here...” I broke off. I’d been about to say that I was sorry, but part of me resisted. “What time is it?”